When I was small,  
your hand held mine,  
in a father’s grip,  
both firm and kind.  
I’d look up in awe
at your towering frame,  
your proud stance unwavering.
I'd like to think that I was a good girl
who obeyed the rules,
because your voice was profound,  
grounding my feet
onto the solid ground.

Through my childhood,  
long HGV trips were the norm,  
and I listened for the latch  
on the garden gate,
as I waited patiently  
for your return.  
I remember how you were
so regimented and set in your ways,  
but your love shone through  
in those distant days.  
I felt relief as years passed,
your strict edges softened,  
into acceptance at last.

Now time’s cogs have turned,  
our roles have reversed,
and life writes for us  
in a different verse.  
Once you strode  
with a confident pace,  
but a Zimmer frame  
now takes that place.  
Your hands, once strong,  
are fragile and sore,  
stiffened by time,  
yet still they endure.

I see the warrior’s spirit  
that still burns inside you,  
as cancer battles loom,  
you strive to push through.  
Where once you led  
with a mighty stride,  
it is now my turn  
to care and guide.  
My strength is yours  
as we walk a little slower these days
with me still by your side.

©️Lizzie Bevis

Cold and callous he approaches
as the night falls.
He’ll conquer this vast kingdom
as darkness calls.

You can run
but he’ll catch up,
try to hide
and he’ll find out
or stand up to fight:
you’d lose your light
in the black midnight.

There’ll be no mercy when he comes.
Bend down, surrender!
Of all your kingdoms
He’ll be the ender.

Though this fierce knight has a frail side
one he desperately tries to hide:
a heart made of stone and cold
that can’t be touched nor consoled.

Being ill is, above all
a sensual thing.
Being reminded of your own mortality,
like never before,
of the reflexes that died in my womb.
It was a dreadful lesson that I've learnt.
I tended to my body
like a lover,
promising in blind faith
that all will be well.

Such luxurious peace—
It was very much like getting possessed, you know
Becoming painfully aware of nothing
but yourself crooked in a crouch
is the only way to stand,
for it is too laborious even to stand straight.
And the noise,
the constant thumping of the heart.
pulsations bleeching
too much, too loud.

What do I know of health before this?
Now it begs my attention like a serpent's hiss.
Dissolving all but sense and solitude,
gripping
me into the lore of pure consciousness.
Like a true predator,
languishing
over yet another sleepless night.